Broken Home - Ally Dawson
by CharxJay
Summary: They would yell, they would scream, they were fighting it out. She would hope, she would pray, she was waiting it out. Holding onto a dream


Her parents have been arguing a lot, and it's only just gotten worse over the past six months, ever since her father brought a store in the Miami Mall without consulting her mother. Ally spends most of her time at home locked up in her room, hoping it would drown out the yelling she would hear from her parents. Hoping that it would finally stop, and they could be the happy family they once were.

She owns many notebooks, all filled with writing and scribbles. Songs, poems or just journal entries it was an escape for her. In her room, she would fill her notebooks until she was called for dinner, the only time her parents didn't argue because they never said anything. Not even to her, not asking how her day at school was, not asking how Trish was. She picked at the food on her plate, keeping her head down just like her parents did. When did they become such a broken family, when did all of their happiness go?

One night Ally didn't come home, she didn't want to spend another night with the yelling but the brunette was sent home by her friends parents. Saying that she didn't have permission to stay so she had to go home. A frown was on her lips as she walked herself home, tears forming in her eyes she could already hear the yelling as she stepped onto the porch of her home. Slowly she opened the door, hoping that her parents were for once to busy yelling to notice that she was coming in late.

"Oh my god, Ally where have you been?" Her mother yelled as she was spotted trying to get to her room.

"I was at Trish's." She replied in a small voice, avoiding eye contact with her mother, before taking in a deep breath before getting out "Like you would have even noticed I was gone."

"You need to tell us this! We need to know you are safe, we don't want to lose you. Of course we would have noticed"

Ally wanted to give a cold laugh, but she kept her lips closed. She thought with all the fighting going on they had forgotten she had even existed. No reply came from her she just turned to her room and closed the door behind her as the tears fall freely from her brown eyes. Her hand over her mouth to muffle the sobs that were coming from her as she slid down her wall, hitting her head a little against the door. She was tired of this, all this pain, of this yelling she just hoped and prayed that they could just go back to what they once were, and not this broken home they currently are like.

Midnight came around and she couldn't get to sleep, she was dressed in her pyjamas, and her parent's had finally stopped their yelling to go to sleep. Grabbing a jersey, she pulled it on as she quietly opened her door, walking down the hall. It was so quiet she felt like a ghost within her own home. A stop by the living room she found one of their photo albums, a longing feeling over coming the young fourteen year old as she went through the photo's. They were full of pictures of when her parents were happy, and happy with her. Letting out a sigh, she grabbed a piece of paper and wrote ' _Hey Mum, Hey Dad. When did this end? When did you lose your happiness?'_ She was tempted to add 'Because mine's gone, gone with all your fighting. It faded like a light, and I feel alone with you guys.' but she didn't. Taking in a deep breath she took the photo album and placed it on the kitchen table, the note on top of it.

She didn't care who was at fault, she just wanted her family happy again. She wanted it together again, she wanted to stop screaming into her notebooks. To stop looking through a broken and shattered mirror. Because even when they aren't fighting, she knows the next one is brewing because blame is always lingering between her parents. One fault would happen and more yelling would begin. She couldn't see why they couldn't just let it go, because now she is slowly finding out her dream of them being a happy family is fading, and it's going quick.


End file.
